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Close Up: An Actor Telling Tales
Fraser’s is a remarkably candid memoir, relating his affairs, friendships and working relationships with some of the biggest stars of the stage and screen, including Rudolf Nureyev, Dirk Bogarde and Bette Davis. John Fraser starred in over 30 films, including El Cid and Tunes of Glory .
- GenresQueer
240 pages, Hardcover
First published April 1, 2005
57 people want to read
About the author
John Fraser
4 books1 followerJohn Fraser is a BAFTA-nominated Scottish-born actor and writer.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Fr...
Librarian note:
There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Fr...
Librarian note:
There is more than one author in the GoodReads database with this name
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
October 20, 2014
Simply the best-written autobiography I have ever had the pleasure to read. You will recognise John Fraser from many old films like El Cid and Tunes of Glory - in this wonderful book he lays bare his life story from impoverished roots in Glasgow to happy retirement in Italy, taking in adventures in the acting profession, peppered with a generous helping of gossip. Fraser comes across as a decent chap, if a little old-fashioned, and his frank and open discussion of his love affairs with the men in his life are never lurid. Even if you've never heard of him, it's still a cracking read.
September 11, 2022
Shakespeare wallah: John Fraser’s memoir is at its best as a social history - a document of the way we were and I should say invaluable for anyone under 30 as a testament to the tribulations of gay life from the 1940s, as well as required reading for the dwindling band who opine a fondness for the pre-decriminalisation period.
“It’s almost impossible to understand how in the dark people were in my youth about sex in general, let alone about deviance. I thought there was me, David and Jonathan a bit, but not really, and Oscar Wilde. And a few men with haunted eyes in the gents at Central Station.” Fraser grew up in working class Glasgow between the wars and his assertion of the problems seems almost optimistic: “…two men living openly together would attract nothing but derision at best and at worst a brick through the window.”
He eases gracefully into a more settled life though the contortions he - even as a fairly minor celebrity - had to concoct to conceal his life with a man in a Hampstead apartment from a homophobically intrusive press are an alarming reminder of how recent our freedoms are.
Much of the rest of Close Up is so-so anecdotes of films and film stars long gone and forgotten. But not all. He can tell a good story and there’s the odd pithy one-liner - sample: Bette Davis “makes Hitler look like Cliff Richard” - but the travelogues are over-detailed and lacking in specificity except for some of his stories of the pioneering work of the London Shakespeare Company he founded. Musings on identity politics were probably outdated when he wrote this 20 years ago, and seem querulously old farty now, and whilst his stance on performing in South Africa is principled and brave it is unfortunately ever so slightly undermined by stereotyping-bordering-on-racist depictions of Japan and the Japanese.
At 300 pages, Close Up is about a quarter overlength for the general reader though theatre and silver screen queens will find plenty to detain them, with its hefty cargo of dropped names, as well as being a record of one of those actors whose face if not name is recognisable from a succession of British movies that reran endlessly on wet Saturday afternoons on BBC2, and who took his craft seriously and thoughtfully.
“It’s almost impossible to understand how in the dark people were in my youth about sex in general, let alone about deviance. I thought there was me, David and Jonathan a bit, but not really, and Oscar Wilde. And a few men with haunted eyes in the gents at Central Station.” Fraser grew up in working class Glasgow between the wars and his assertion of the problems seems almost optimistic: “…two men living openly together would attract nothing but derision at best and at worst a brick through the window.”
He eases gracefully into a more settled life though the contortions he - even as a fairly minor celebrity - had to concoct to conceal his life with a man in a Hampstead apartment from a homophobically intrusive press are an alarming reminder of how recent our freedoms are.
Much of the rest of Close Up is so-so anecdotes of films and film stars long gone and forgotten. But not all. He can tell a good story and there’s the odd pithy one-liner - sample: Bette Davis “makes Hitler look like Cliff Richard” - but the travelogues are over-detailed and lacking in specificity except for some of his stories of the pioneering work of the London Shakespeare Company he founded. Musings on identity politics were probably outdated when he wrote this 20 years ago, and seem querulously old farty now, and whilst his stance on performing in South Africa is principled and brave it is unfortunately ever so slightly undermined by stereotyping-bordering-on-racist depictions of Japan and the Japanese.
At 300 pages, Close Up is about a quarter overlength for the general reader though theatre and silver screen queens will find plenty to detain them, with its hefty cargo of dropped names, as well as being a record of one of those actors whose face if not name is recognisable from a succession of British movies that reran endlessly on wet Saturday afternoons on BBC2, and who took his craft seriously and thoughtfully.
December 30, 2022
The first two-thirds of the book made me think this was going to be perhaps the best autobiography I'd ever read, but then Fraser shifts into a different style of writing that is more like a travelogue with both humorous and horrifying anecdotes. It's hard to define exactly what is unsatisfying about the last few chapters except I think the first part is more focused on "this is who I am" and the last part is more "here are some things I saw."
November 17, 2021
Marvellous, everything a memoir should be — up to a point.
Sleeping with Nureyev (sorry, spoiler), is definitely the apex of this very funny, honest, well-written and briskly-paced book.
The final chapters are a disappointment. For some reason, Fraser discards self-examination and instead gives us his "greatest hits" of touring the world as a Shakespearean actor. The hits are not that funny, and we miss the old interrogation into himself and his times, and what it means to find success as an actor who is gay.
Sleeping with Nureyev (sorry, spoiler), is definitely the apex of this very funny, honest, well-written and briskly-paced book.
The final chapters are a disappointment. For some reason, Fraser discards self-examination and instead gives us his "greatest hits" of touring the world as a Shakespearean actor. The hits are not that funny, and we miss the old interrogation into himself and his times, and what it means to find success as an actor who is gay.
January 24, 2023
No holds barred account of John's extrodinary life and acting career. Most entertaining.
June 6, 2016
This is best autobiography by an actor that I have read, since David Niven's The Moon's a Balloon. Funny, moving, gossipy and a thoroughly absorbing read. It contained more than a couple of laugh-out-loud moments.
September 21, 2008
Well-written and very funny, especially when he tells about touring in stage plays. There are also insights into what some of our bigger 50's and 60's screen legends were like to work with.
July 25, 2010
What is it with me and gay actors
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews